This Night Walk The Dead
by neonchipmunk
Summary: In a world overun with the living dead Frank and his group of friends have been trying to stay alive as best as possible, but when Frank leaves the base to find food he finds himself trapped with the most useless people he has ever met. MCR/P@TD&FOB AU.
1. Chapter 1

Frank landed on the other side of the wall with a softened 'thud', the decaying vegetation underneath him muffling the otherwise fairly loud sound of his duffle bag of tin cans hitting the pavement. The last thing that Frank needed was to draw even more attention to himself that he unfortunately already had, so he was thankful for the first time in his life for the rotting underfoot foliage.

It was mid autumn and the creeping winter chill dug its way into Frank's mostly bare skin. He hadn't planned on being outside for so long so hadn't put on any items of clothing that would unnecessarily weigh him down, he also had to do a lot of dodging in order to stop from being grabbed as he made his getaway; long sleeved items were _definitely_ a no go when a member of the undead was trying to claw at something to hold onto.

The undead, in fact, were the reason that Frank had been in such a hurry to hop over walls; mainly because at least 30 of them were currently following him. Frank, not being the tallest of people, easily made his way over the wall, meaning that the creatures following him would also be able to get over -or even _through_- the decrepit old stone wall.

"Shit. Shit. _Shit_," Frank muttered to himself as soon as he heard the rasping of the things behind him. Swiftly picking up his bag and swinging it over his shoulder, he began to run through the park that he had just entered. There were a lot less of the creatures in places like parks and forests – basically anywhere that was less populated with living human flesh the less the undead enjoyed congregated there.

He became startles as a hissing noise began in his ear, but relaxed again when he realised it was his listening device as Mikey's crackling voice came on the line.

"What did you think you were _doing?_," he sounded panicked and upset, obviously worried for his friend's safety, "How hard is it to not attract the attention of every singly fucking zombie _ever_ Frank, huh?"

"Would you calm down, I'm fine!," Frank climbed over a fallen tree that was in his path, causing him to stumble and slow down a bit, something he really didn't want at the minute, "All I need to do is circle back to the car park in a mile or so and I will be back to base soon."

"Yeah, but for now you are travelling in the total wrong direction," Mikey sighed, "Why couldn't you have just grabbed the food and gotten out Frank?"

"I heard someone, they were still alive and I had to try to help them," He hadn't heard anything behind him for a while and as he paused to catch his breath he looked back and couldn't see anything, "Dude, I _had_ to try to help them, but by the time I got to the guy it was too late, and by then all of the zombies and all of their fucking mothers had seen me."

Frank flinched as a scraping sound echoed from the listening device before an angry voice started yelling at him, "What the _fuck_ Frank? You think what you did was okay? We are all worried as fuck over here!," Gerard had some sort of talent for making him feel guilty, "You get your ass right back here _now_."

Frank could hear faint groaning coming from behind him now, "Look Gerard, I don't have time for this, what did you really expect me to do, not try to help the guy? I'll be back as soon as I can."

Gerard's continued shouts were cut off as Frank switched off his earpiece and pocketed it, continuing to run through the park just as a group of the undead erupted from the trees a few meters behind him.

So they were still following him.

Great.

Frank cursed and continued to run, his surroundings a blur and the paranoia of being caught breathing down his neck. The group were slowly gaining on him as he was growing tired and more out of breath, which of course didn't slow the undead down; they didn't breathe and never became tired.

Then the next think he knew he was falling.


	2. Chapter 2

Frank cursed and continued to run, his surroundings a blur and the paranoia of being caught breathing down his neck. The group were slowly gaining on him as he was growing tired and more out of breath, which of course didn't slow the undead down; they didn't breathe and never became tired.

Then the next think he knew he was falling.

Frank fell for a bit longer than he was expecting – '_Death in slow motion. I'm done for now, I know I am. Fuck. Fuck. __**Fuck,**_' he thought to himself before realising that he could no longer hear the growling of the undead, and he must have fallen far as his whole body was in_ pain, _not cushioned by grass but lying on cold hard concrete.

"Who the fuck left the hatch open?" there were rushed footsteps and the screeching of metal on metal above him as the entrance was closed.

"Jon, is that y-," a second voice chimed in before it was cut off by a third.

"Brendon, get away from him, he may be-"

"Shh!" the first person said, "Ryan's right, it may be a zombie and it sure as hell isn't Jon."

Frank groaned as he was poked with what felt like a stick, he raised his hand in a less-than-friendly gesture until his arm collapsed back onto the concrete.

"Oh...well then," The one who had poked him mumbled, then said rather too loudly, "So _who_ are you exactly?"

Frank ached all over but pulled himself up off of the floor and stood in front of the three men. He stood there awkwardly for a moment before adjusting the bag of cans on his shoulder - that had previously attempted to crush him - and simply stated, "My name's Frank."

"I'm Patrick." The one with the stick – which was actually the end of a mop- stuck out his hand for Frank to shake. He was small, slightly pudgy and had glasses, but you could tell he was warm and friendly, "That's Ryan and Brendon."

All of the men were relatively young. Ryan, who was tall and thin, was holding Brendon back defensively but released his grip on the smaller man's arms when he saw that Frank posed no threat to them, though still shot him apprehensive glances.

"We can't find Jon anywhere," Ryan said to Patrick in a hushed voice, "He must have left the hatch open when he went."

"But why would he do that?" Brendon turned to Ryan with a panicked look on his face, "That's practically suicide!"

Ryan stayed quiet but nodded in agreement, a tinge of worry showing in his face as well. Patrick seemed rather calm and avoided looking at the other two, but instead turned to Frank, "So how did you get here anyway? There aren't many people still alive."

Frank relayed his tale of the food trip going wrong and having to run away from the undead. "I have to get back to my friends, they'll be worried sick about me," He took the listening device out of his pocket and placed it in his ear, but due to being underground he couldn't get any signal.

Cursing, he put it back in his pocket, "Don't suppose there is any other exit that isn't swarming with zombies?" he looked up towards the hatch for emphasis, and then back to Patrick. There was no way that the undead that were following him were not still out there.

Patrick shook his head, "That's the only way in and out again."

Frank looked around the large room; in the corner there was a large platform leading to a wall of computers and various technical devices. Frank hated technology at the best of times, but seeing all of the not working computers was eerie. They were all standing in the middle of the room, with the hatch above them accessible via a ladder pinned to a wall, and finally there were two doors set in the wall to the right of Frank and an arch on his left, leading to what looked like a kitchen.

Frank furrowed his brow and sighed, "So what is this place anyway?"

They all remained quiet until Ryan, looking almost annoyed, said, "An underground bunker, what does it look like?"

Frank rolled his eyes, "Yes, but why is it in the middle of a park?"

"How do we know? We didn't build the damn thing!"

Frank could feel the apprehension radiating from both Patrick and Brendon who were stood uncomfortably, their eyes firmly fixed anywhere but on Ryan. Frank knew he should let the conversation subject drop, but wasn't going to let Ryan snap at him.

"Look _kid_, this situation is a bit dodgy, now isn't it?"

"Look _jerk_, I'm not going to stan-", Ryan was cut off by one of the metal doors scraping opening, through which a small yawning man entered, he was wearing jeans and a gray hoodie and paused mid step when he saw everyone crowded around Frank.

"Oh...," The man straightened up properly, even then he was only about the same height as Frank, "Did I miss something?"

"Pete," Patrick motioned to Frank, "Frank, this is Pete."

"Wasn't exactly expecting company, but hey-," Pete moved closer and extended his hand into a friendly handshake, "Welcome."

Pete quickly moved off towards the kitchen, a pleasant skip to his step.

Ryan, still looking annoyed, mumbled, "I'm done with this," and made his exit from the room out of the door that Pete had just come through.

"Ryan wait," Brendon started to follow him but turned back momentarily, "Er – nice to meet you Frank."

"I don't know what his problem is," Patrick said when they were alone, "Tension can get a bit high, we've been stuck in here together for about a month. These guys are my best friends but I sure am sick of seeing their faces!" Patrick smiled, trying to break the awkwardness.

Patrick showed Frank around the underground home, it was more spacious that Frank was expecting, he was shown the kitchen first, where Pete was making oatmeal or something as equally gray and gloopy, then he was shown that the two doors lead to stall toilets and sleeping quarters. There were 3 sleeping rooms, each with two beds. The rooms were only small but comfortably so, not too claustrophobic.

"Jon had a room to himself... so I suppose you can have this room to yourself," Patrick looked sombre while pointing to the door at the end of the row.

"Thank you for this, really, but I don't know how long I can even stay here for. As soon as I can I'll get out of your hair..."

"There are a lot of them out there, are you sure that's...wise?"

"I don't want my friends to get even more worried, this is all my fault."

Pete slapped Frank on the back, making both him and Patrick jump, Pete had obviously sneaked up and overheard them talking, "Don't be so morbid, it's not like you can be blamed for all of this mess."

"It's insane how happy you are all the time, "Patrick clutched his chest dramatically, "And it isn't nice to sneak up on already paranoid people, okay Peter?"

"Maybe I've just finally lost it, that's why I'm so happy," Pete smiled, "I'm actually _this _close to running around naked, sacrificing Brendon to the gods and dancing The Macarena."

"I'm not doubting that," Patrick laughed, causing Frank to smile at how happy they were.

Sure everyone got on at his base but they were never really _happy_, they were always constantly worrying about how to stay alive, paranoid about when the next attack of the undead will be.

It would be nice to get a good night's sleep in somewhere impenetrable, a real bed in a safe place.

"Thanks guys."


	3. Chapter 3

"Frank? _Frank!"_ Gerard shouted into the radio transmitter but Frank had already gone, throwing his hands up in frustration he cursed under his breath.

"He switched it off, he _knows_ we can't track him if it's switched off," Mikey sighed and nervously pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. Leaning into the florescent computer screen he began to work out where Frank had been when the listening device was last switched on. Mikey had always been a whizz at computers, and while the rest of the group would usually look on in awe Mikey knew how to work _everything_ technological. If it was electronic then Mikey knew exactly how it worked.

"Why the fuck would he do that? He should listen to me, he never listens to me!" Gerard had begun pacing up and down behind Mikey's chair, the room barley big enough for him to be able to walk more than 5 steps before having to turn around.

The hide out that they had wasn't the best, it wasn't particularly big or hygienic, with only a small computer room, a storage room and a make-shift bunkhouse, but it had a strong structure and was made out of cement, nothing flimsy like wood, which helped Mikey get to sleep at night. The storage room held all of the canned goods and at the minute Ray and Bob were on the roof, their turns for keeping watch and making sure no zombie got too close.

Mikey didn't know what the structure had originally been used for, perhaps to store something in part of an allotment, but now it was in the middle of what could only be described as a junk yard, with parts of old machinery, bikes and automobiles strewn around it, some of the junk even being handy to use as weapons or to build things. The computers in the computer room were Mikey's own offspring, or so he treated them, when the outbreak started and they found the shelter he knew that they had to return to his apartment to retrieve them. It was safe to say that after hours of arguing he managed to convince the guys that it would be the only sensible way to try to contact anyone that could help them, and now they ran on backup generators that Frank (who frequently forgot to pay his electricity bills) kept for a rainy day. The 'beds' in the bunkhouse were flimsy mattresses found in the junkyard with added clothes for extra comfort, all of the 'business' had to be done outside due to no washing facilities, it wasn't pretty but at least they were still alive.

There were two gunshots follower by hollering on the roof, "You should have seen that one," Bob cried, "Total headshot from a mile away!"

"Lucky shot," he heard Ray mumble.

Mikey rolled his eyes. He wasn't one for competitive zombie killing, it was disgusting; they may be soulless monsters but they still resembled people. He only killed them in self defence, and even that was at a push.

"Watch out for Frank," Gerard shouted up to them, "If he isn't back here in the next ten minutes I'm punching that fucker."

Mumbles of agreement descended from the roof as they returned to keeping watch. Exasperated, Gerard sat down in the chair next to Mikey, placing his head in his hands an massaging his temples.

"Frank's a grown man you know," Mikey knew that Gerard wouldn't stop worrying until Frank was safe, but he tried to calm him down anyway, "He's smart, he'll be fine by himself until he can get back."

"You better be right," Gerard kept his hand over his eyes, "He never listens," he said mainly under his breath.

"You've got to stop worrying," Mikey reached out a hand to pat his brother on the back, "I'll keep sending out radio messages, just in case he switches back on, okay? You look exhausted, you should get some sleep."

"Fine, but if anything happens wake me straight away," Gerard stood up and started to make his way to the bunk house, he had been on the last watch duty and hadn't slept for 24 hours, "Thanks Mikey."

"Sure," he said, mustering the biggest and geekiest smile he could, which received a small smirk from Gerard as he left the room.

Mikey sat back in his chair and pushed his glasses back up again, it seeming to be some sort of nervous tick. He wondered if Frank knew what he had gotten himself into by not sticking to the plan of getting in and getting straight back out again, but of course it wasn't that simple.

It was never that simple with Frank.

Mikey just hoped he would see his friend again, and especially for his brother's sake, they didn't lose anymore loved ones or friends. Gerard was barely holding it together with Frank being gone, but the grief of him never coming back would be too overwhelming for him to face.


	4. Chapter 4

"What the fuck do you think you're doing in here?" Ryan shoved Frank backwards, shouting angrily, "This is Jon's room, don't get comfy."

"What's your problem? Patrick said I could stay here, there're two beds you know, it's not like this Jon guy is even here to _need _a bed," Frank pushed him back, trying to keep as much distance between Ryan and himself, that last thing he wanted was to be blamed for a fight and get on the wrong side of the people who had been friendly to him, "I want to know why you have such a problem with me."

"Jon is coming back," Ryan ran his hands through his hair, pushing it back off his face, he just seemed sad now, the anger draining from his features, "And then you'll have to leave. Jon is coming back and then you have to go."

"Ryan...," Brendon was stood in the doorway, a look of desperation on his face, "You have to stop, Ryan."

Brendon came forward and grabbed Ryan's arm, causing him to flinch and pull away slightly. Brendon's eyes glossed over and Ryan quickly left the room, muttering to himself as he walked, leaving Brendon to stare after him.

"What the fuck was that about?" Frank cut the silence after a few moments, sitting down on the bed that he hoped wasn't Jon's. Ryan hadn't pushed him hard but the kid had bony hands, that was for sure, and they had dug into Frank's shoulder.

Brendon signed and sat down on the bed opposite. "He's just... troubled, that's all."

"Yeah, we all have problems but we don't all randomly attack people."

"It's a lot more complicated than that," Brendon didn't know why he was telling this to Frank, be he felt he could be trusted, "He blames himself for all of this mess, especially for Jon leaving I guess. They guy's my best friend, has been for a long time, but now he just keeps getting more and more distant."

Frank sat and listened to Brendon quietly, it was no use saying '_Look dude, I don't know anything about the inner workings of some kid's brain, I've only been here for a few hours_', and making Brendon feel any worse than he already did. So Frank just sat there and listened, watching Brendon's face twist painfully while talking about Ryan. Since Brendon was talking about how they used to go to school and college together Frank guessed they were probably only in their late teens or early twenties.

"I'm sure he's going to feel guilty for getting so pissed off at you," Brendon continued, "He isn't usually like this, I swear, I don't know what's up with him."

Frank still wasn't sure what to say to the kid, he didn't want to offend him by telling him that his best friend is a bit of an ass, so simply nodded and sat in silence.

Brendon gave him a prompting look, but when Frank couldn't think of anything to reply with Brendon shook his head and smiled slightly, "What am I even doing? This isn't your problem. Well, other than Ryan being a dick to you, which I'm sorry about. I guess I just needed to vent to someone."

Brendon began to leave. "See you around," he paused in the doorframe, "Oh – and thanks Frank."

"No problem kid."

A twitch of a smile appeared on Brendon's face again, as he drummed his fingers along the frame before closing the door behind him.

Frank lay back on the bed and placed his hands behind his head. Sighing, he closed his eyes and thought about how angry and upset his friends would be. Remembering how anxious and worried Gerard sounded the last time he had spoken to him was too painful to think about. Why hadn't he at least kept his device switched on? At least then Mikey would have been able to track the radio waves to the exact spot where Frank fallen down the stupid hatch.

He should have been paying attention to what was in front of him, then maybe he wouldn't be stuck underground with people he barely knew, with no way to contact his friends. But then again, what if he hadn't have stumbled into this place? It was the safest place he had been to in a long time. _Safe._ There were a lot of zombies behind him, possibly a whole lot more in front of him, would he have ended up surrounded and ripped apart? Like that guy he was trying to help in the first place?

Either way, he wanted nothing more than to bang his head repeatedly against something _hard_.

Whatever, there wasn't anything that he could do now, so in the mean time he was planning on getting some sleep. Hopefully it would help to clear his head so he could devise a plan to make it back to his friends alive, along with not being ripped to pieces by the many zombies probably pacing above him.

_Not being ripped to pieces would be nice._


	5. Chapter 5

Ryan had his back to Brendon, gripping the kitchen counter so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"Why are you acting like this?" Brendon placed his hand on Ryan's shoulder, which he shrugged off.

"He's in _Jon's_ room Bren, he shouldn't be in there."

"Ryan, Jon's gone – we don't even know if he's coming back any time soon, if _ever_."

"Why would he leave? We had a plan!" Ryan slammed his hands down on the counter and then turned to face Brendon, "And then _he_ comes here and messes everything up, everything was going fine."

"By 'he' I guess you mean Frank? And it wasn't his fault that Jon left," Brendon shrugged.

"Wait, you don't think that Jon..." Ryan trailed off and scowled towards the door.

"What?"

"Took _you-know-what_...with him?" Ryan looked panicked now, his eyes wide and worried.

"Shit! You don't think he would do that to us, would he?" Brendon swore and ran his hands through his hair.

"There's only one way to find out."


	6. Chapter 6

Frank woke to a knock at his door.

_Must have fallen asleep_, he thought while stretching and sitting on the side of the bed. He had to admit that he hadn't had such a good rest for months – it was so wonderful to not have to be constantly on guard, waiting to be attacked.

"Can I come in?" He heard Patrick say before poking his head round the door.

"Yeah sure," Frank yawned and stretched again before standing up.

Patrick chuckled lightly, "Guessing you had a good nap then? I mean, considering that it's morning now."

"Really?" Frank was surprised, "I must have really been out cold, well, I haven't really slept properly for a while."

"Yeah, the safety is the best part about this place," Patrick smiled and shoved his hands in his pockets, "Pete's making pancakes and I came to see if you wanted some."

As if responding to the word 'pancake' Frank's stomach growled in hunger, obviously since the dead started rising it was impossible to cook anything without drawing attention to yourself, so something like pancakes was definitely off the menu, and Frank could tell you that eating cold tinned soup and beans gets old _very_ quickly.

In the kitchen Pete waved as Frank walked in, flipping pancakes as he went.

"No bacon or eggs but we have some maple syrup which should do the trick," he plopped the pancake on top of the pile of the others, which contained at least 20 others.

Frank's stomach grumbled again when he sat down at the table, "Syrup will do just fine thanks; I can't believe you guys have pancakes!"

"The powdered egg may taste a little bit different to fresh, and they're made with pre-mix" he shrugged and smiled while placing the plate on the table, "But they're still pancakes."

Patrick placed down a stack of smaller plates onto the table and gave one to Frank, "Take as many as you want, we have enough mixture to last for years." He nodded towards the food.

His manners would have told him to wait until everyone was sat down at the table before eating, but they had long since meant nothing, and Patrick had said it was okay to start, so Frank picked up a couple and shoved them down his throat. His stomach instantaneously grumbled in approval.

"Don't choke!" Pete laughed as he sat down across from Frank, placing a bottle of syrup next to the pancakes.

The food was so amazing that Frank actually wanted to cry like a little girl, but made sure that he didn't lose his dignity in front of Pete and Patrick. Instead he picked up the syrup and drowned his remaining pancake in it.

"We've been talking," Pete cleared his throat, "And we have a lot of food, with Jon gone even more, so – why don't you think about staying?"

These people were the reason that he was still alive, they had fed him and given him a bed to sleep in. A _safe_ bed. But he had to get back to his friends, they were more important than him being comfortable, he couldn't just leave them to think the worst, especially when he knew that there was somewhere safe for them. Then again, he couldn't turn round to Patrick and say, '_Oh, by the way – can these other 4 guys come and stay here too? I know there are only 6 beds for 9 people, but have a heart!'_

"I'm really sorry, you've done so much for me, but I really can't."

Patrick looked sombre but Pete said, "I can't even sway you with a tempting, _working_ shower?"

Frank laughed, he really did like them – they were good people, "Not even that unfortunately."

"Well we tried," Pete turned to Patrick, "Where're Brendon and Ryan?"

"Ryan's probably sulking," Patrick poked at his pancake but didn't eat it, "I told Brendon that you were making breakfast but I don't know where he is now, but he said he was coming."

"I'm sure Ryan didn't agree to letting me stay, that's for sure."

"Ryan isn't usually like how he was yesterday, he's a nice kid, I think he was just upset about Jon," Pete fidgeted uncomfortably before he stood and picked up the used plates, including Patrick's un-touched pancake and the other 10 or so meant for Brendon and Ryan, "Anyway, Brendon agreed and then it's 3 against 1, we're not just gunna throw you out."

"And he didn't say he _didn't_ want you to stay, he doesn't hate you as much as you might think," Patrick chipped in.

"Yeah, sure he doesn't." Frank said with a hint of sarcasm. He knew the kid was probably scared, just like Gerard, Mikey, Bob and Ray must be.

"Hang on," Pete went over to the wall and began to climb the ladder to the hatch.

"Woah – wait! What are you _doing_?" Patrick began to panic and was ready to make a grab for Pete's legs.

"I remember Jon said something about a scope, you know, to see outside without actually _going _outside!" Pete was smiling slightly manically, but it also made Frank and Patrick smile.

"So you can see if those things are still up there?" Frank get excited, ready to leave as soon as possible.

Pete got to the top of the ladder and mumbled to himself while typing something into a control box, _'So, you have to type a password to open the hatch? Super.' _Frank thought to himself. Eventually Pete shouted in success and a little rod popped out of the wall next to the box, it must have been a periscope, he put his eye to the end of it and used a joystick on the security box to make sure he could see 360 degrees around the perimeter of the hatch.

"It doesn't look too bad, I can see one or two in the far trees," Pete eventually said after making a few 'oooh' and 'ahh' sounds.

"Well that's good then, I can take on a few, I can slip past 'em pretty easily."

"I'm still not so sure that you should go, I don't want you to get hurt," Patrick said while twiddling his thumbs together, looking down at the floor, "We've lost too many people... far too many people."

Pete slid down from the ladder and patted Patrick on the back, "Don't worry, he's a grown man who can make his own decisions, he doesn't need you to mother him."

Patrick stayed quiet.

"Besides, if I something happens to me," Frank shrugged while clasping Patrick's shoulder, "It happens. People die. No matter what I need to do, they're my only family now and I have to get back to them."

"We understand," Patrick smiled weakly, "So when do you think...-t-think you'll be leaving?"

"Soon, I just need to get my bag. I can't thank you guys enough," Frank moved off towards his room, the pancakes suddenly making him feel sick – _or maybe in isn't the pancake's fault after all_.

"We understand," he heard Patrick mutter under his breath again as Pete pulled him into an embrace to comfort him.

He got back to his room and shut the door behind him. He lay on the bed again and put his arms over his eyes to cover them. He could finally leave_, he should be happy!_, but instead there was just a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach, telling him something was _wrong._ He couldn't stay here forever.

He peered out from under his arm to stare at the light on the ceiling – **that's it.**

He was sure he hadn't put the light on_. Was it Patrick when he came to wake him?_ _No, Patrick didn't come into the room properly, and Pete was already in the kitchen. And why would anyone go in there anyway?_

Frank didn't like it, he looked around the room and his eyes settled on his duffle bag, _that he had definitely placed at the foot of his bed_, which was now far too close to the top.

Someone had been in his room.

_Probably looking for something that they shouldn't be._


	7. Chapter 7

Frank woke to a knock at his door.

_Must have fallen asleep_, he thought while stretching and sitting on the side of the bed. He had to admit that he hadn't had such a good rest for months – it was so wonderful to not have to be constantly on guard, waiting to be attacked.

"Can I come in?" He heard Patrick say before poking his head round the door.

"Yeah sure," Frank yawned and stretched again before standing up.

Patrick chuckled lightly, "Guessing you had a good nap then? I mean, considering that it's morning now."

"Really?" Frank was surprised, "I must have really been out cold, well, I haven't really slept properly for a while."

"Yeah, the safety is the best part about this place," Patrick smiled and shoved his hands in his pockets, "Pete's making pancakes and I came to see if you wanted some."

As if responding to the word 'pancake' Frank's stomach growled in hunger. Since the dead started rising it was impossible to cook anything without drawing attention to yourself, so something like pancakes was definitely off the menu, and Frank could tell you that eating cold tinned soup and beans gets old _very_ quickly.

In the kitchen Pete waved as Frank walked in, flipping pancakes as he went.

"No bacon or eggs but we have some maple syrup which should do the trick," he plopped the pancake on top of the pile of the others, which contained at least 20 others.

Frank's stomach grumbled again when he sat down at the table, "Syrup will do just fine thanks; I can't believe you guys have pancakes!"

"The powdered egg may taste a little bit different to fresh, and they're made with pre-mix" he shrugged and smiled while placing the plate on the table, "But they're still pancakes."

Patrick placed down a stack of smaller plates onto the table and gave one to Frank, "Take as many as you want, we have enough mixture to last for years." He nodded towards the food.

His manners would have told him to wait until everyone was sat down at the table before eating, but they had long since meant nothing, and Patrick had said it was okay to start, so Frank picked up a couple and shoved them down his throat. His stomach instantaneously grumbled in approval.

"Don't choke!" Pete laughed as he sat down across from Frank, placing a bottle of syrup next to the pancakes.

The food was so amazing that Frank actually wanted to cry like a little girl, but made sure that he didn't lose his dignity in front of Pete and Patrick. Instead he picked up the syrup and drowned his remaining pancake in it.

"We've been talking," Pete cleared his throat, "And we have a lot of food, with Jon gone even more, so – why don't you think about staying?"

These people were the reason that he was still alive, they had fed him and given him a bed to sleep in. A _safe_ bed. But he had to get back to his friends, they were more important than him being comfortable, he couldn't just leave them to think the worst, especially when he knew that there was somewhere safe for them. Then again, he couldn't turn round to Patrick and say, '_Oh, by the way – can these other 4 guys come and stay here too? I know there are only 6 beds for 9 people, but have a heart!'_

"I'm really sorry, you've done so much for me, but I really can't."

Patrick looked sombre but Pete said, "I can't even sway you with a tempting, _working_ shower?"

Frank laughed, he really did like them – they were good people, "Not even that unfortunately."

"Well we tried," Pete turned to Patrick, "Where're Brendon and Ryan?"

"Ryan's probably sulking," Patrick poked at his pancake but didn't eat it, "I told Brendon that you were making breakfast but I don't know where he is now, but he said he was coming."

"I'm sure Ryan didn't agree to letting me stay, that's for sure."

"Ryan isn't usually like how he was yesterday, he's a nice kid, I think he was just upset about Jon," Pete fidgeted uncomfortably before he stood and picked up the used plates, including Patrick's un-touched pancake and the other 10 or so meant for Brendon and Ryan, "Anyway, Brendon agreed and then it's 3 against 1, we're not just gunna throw you out."

"And he didn't say he _didn't_ want you to stay, he doesn't hate you as much as you might think," Patrick chipped in.

"Yeah, sure he doesn't." Frank said with a hint of sarcasm. He knew the kid was probably scared, just like Gerard, Mikey, Bob and Ray must be.

"Hang on," Pete went over to the wall and began to climb the ladder to the hatch.

"Woah – wait! What are you _doing_?" Patrick began to panic and was ready to make a grab for Pete's legs.

"I remember Jon said something about a scope, you know, to see outside without actually _going _outside!" Pete was smiling slightly manically, but it also made Frank and Patrick smile.

"So you can see if those things are still up there?" Frank get excited, ready to leave as soon as possible.

Pete got to the top of the ladder and mumbled to himself while typing something into a control box, _'So, you have to type a password to open the hatch? Super.' _Frank thought to himself. Eventually Pete shouted in success and a little rod popped out of the wall next to the box, it must have been a periscope, he put his eye to the end of it and used a joystick on the security box to make sure he could see 360 degrees around the perimeter of the hatch.

"It doesn't look too bad, I can see one or two in the far trees," Pete eventually said after making a few 'oooh' and 'ahh' sounds.

"Well that's good then, I can take on a few, I can slip past 'em pretty easily."

"I'm still not so sure that you should go, I don't want you to get hurt," Patrick said while twiddling his thumbs together, looking down at the floor, "We've lost too many people... far too many people."

Pete slid down from the ladder and patted Patrick on the back, "Don't worry, he's a grown man who can make his own decisions, he doesn't need you to mother him."

Patrick stayed quiet.

"Besides, if I something happens to me," Frank shrugged while clasping Patrick's shoulder, "It happens. People die. No matter what I need to do, they're my only family now and I have to get back to them."

"We understand," Patrick smiled weakly, "So when do you think...-t-think you'll be leaving?"

"Soon, I just need to get my bag. I can't thank you guys enough," Frank moved off towards his room, the pancakes suddenly making him feel sick – _or maybe in isn't the pancake's fault after all_.

"We understand," he heard Patrick mutter under his breath again as Pete pulled him into an embrace to comfort him.

He got back to his room and shut the door behind him. He lay on the bed again and put his arms over his eyes to cover them. He could finally leave_, he should be happy!_, but instead there was just a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach, telling him something was _wrong._ He couldn't stay here forever.

He peered out from under his arm to stare at the light on the ceiling – **that's it.**

He was sure he hadn't put the light on_. Was it Patrick when he came to wake him?_ _No, Patrick didn't come into the room properly, and Pete was already in the kitchen. And why would anyone go in there anyway?_

Frank didn't like it, he looked around the room and his eyes settled on his duffle bag, _that he had definitely placed at the foot of his bed_, which was now far too close to the top.

Someone had been in his room.

_Probably looking for something that they shouldn't be._

"Shit Ryan, _shit_!" Brendon put his head in his hands and sat on the edge of Ryan's bed while Ryan paced angrily.

"That _bastard_," Ryan had used the word 'bastard' a lot within the last 5 minutes, "How the fuck could he do this to us? _Why_ the _fuck _would he?"

"Fucking creep, what are we supposed to do Ryan?" Brendon was close to tears, he and Ryan had _trusted_ Jon, "What the _fuck_ are we supposed to do! You know what's going to happen now? We're _dead _Ryan!"

"I don't know what we're going to do Bren," Ryan massaged his temples to get rid of the oncoming migraine, to no avail, "You need to calm down though."

"We're dead Ryan," Brendon had a look of desperation etched onto his face. "He's taken _all _of them. every. last. one. Don't you _get_ that?"

"Yes I get that Brendon!" Ryan shouted while grasping the other boys shoulders, "But there's nothing we can do now... we just have to be careful."

Brendon cried silently, his body racking with sobs. "What about Pete and Patrick...?"

"It's none of their concern... we just have to-"

"_None of their concern? _Of course it's their concern!," Brendon grabbed Ryan around the back of the arms and leaned into his chest, "We need to keep them safe Ryan, if we don't get it back within 48 hours you know wha-"

Before Brendon could finish what he was saying Ryan gently grabbed the smaller man's chin, lightly pinching it between his thumb and forefinger before gently pressing his lips to Brendon's.

Brendon was slightly shocked and silent for a moment, and then slowly pulled away before saying coldly "This isn't going to solve anything Ryan."

Ryan ignored him and gently traced Brendon's bottom lip with his thumb, his other hand slowly making it's was under Brendon's shirt and sliding up to his chest.

"Ryan," Brendon gently pushed him away, but when he still wouldn't listen he was pushed back firmly, "Ryan, now isn't the time okay? You can't just ignore this!"

Ryan sighed and looked towards the floor. "You're right, and that's exactly why we're leaving," Ryan looked up to meet Brendon's eyes, "_Tonight."_


End file.
